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MY DEATH (LA MORT)
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(Brel/Shuman)
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(French words: Jacques Brel)
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(English words: Mort Shuman and Eric Blau)
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(Music: Jacques Brel)
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My death is like
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a swinging door
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a patient girl who knows the score
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whistle for her
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and the passing time
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My death waits like
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a bible truth
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at the funeral of my youth
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weep loud for that
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and the passing time
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My death waits like
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a witch at night
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and surely as our love is bright
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let's laugh for us
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and the passing time
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But whatever is behind the door
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there is nothing much to do
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angel or devil I don't care
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for in front of that door
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there is you
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My death waits like
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a beggar blind
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who sees the world with an unlit mind
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throw him a dime
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for the passing time
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My death waits
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to allow my friends
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a few good times before it ends
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let's drink to that
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and the passing time
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My death waits in
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your arms, your thighs
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your cool fingers will close my eyes
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let's not talk about
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the passing time
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But whatever is behind the door
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there is nothing much to do
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angel or devil I don't care
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for in front of that door
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there is you
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My death waits
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among the falling leaves
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in magicians, mysterious sleeves
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rabbits, dogs
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and the passing times
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My death waits
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among the flowers
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where the blackish shadow cowers
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let's pick lilacs
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for the passing time
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My death waits in
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a double bed
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sails of oblivion at my head
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pull up the sheets
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against the passing time
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But whatever is behind the door
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there is nothing much to do
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angel or devil I don't care
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for in front of that door
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there is you
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MY DEATH (LA MORT)
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| Scott Walker |
